12/11/2006

Working, Playing, Working, Playing.

It sits upon me like a lead weight,

Yet today I welcome the pressure.

A harmonic, sailing, across my unblinking eye.

My train of thought reverses itself,

Extrapolating a new dimension from all around me.

Comfort in the unknown.


I can't breathe today.

My thoughts are an ocean,

Yet my mind is beached and landlocked,

And the sands are shifting below.

Hollow and old like a dead tree,

Can I even hold my own weight anymore?

It felt like it did years ago,

But hindsight's 20/20 and I can't see shit.


A multiple of itself in my head begins to form again,

And I'd watch it dance into the sunset,

If it wasn't taking me with it.


By Ben Jones

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